Roberta

- Did you bring my band of Indians? - Indians?

Yes, American Indians, musicians to play in my café.

- Oh, you mean Indians with feathers? - Yes, with noses.

- Like on the American five cents? - Yes, yes.

- Have you got them on board, yes? - No.

Thank you, monsieur.

Indians? Indians? Are you the Wabash Indians Band?

Are you Voyda?

I am Alexander Petrovitch Moskovich Voyda.

Let's pick it up from there.

We're the boys you hired to play at your café.

- The Wabash Indianians. - Indianians?

Is this the same as Indians?

Well, yes, in a sense.

You see, we don't wear our feathers in warm weather, do we, boys?

- No. - No, never, never.

- Well, when do we start, Mr. Voyda? - You don't start.

I cable for Indians and I want Indians!

No pale American face is going to make me a fool of myself.

Did you ever heard of Alexander Petrovitch Moskovich Voyda?

- Sure. - Yes, and how, and how.

As a matter of fact, we hear you're one of the cleverest fellows in Paris.

In Paris and all Europe. The whole world.

Well, I was coming to that. I just wanted to prepare you, that's all.

You got a great bet in these boys, Mr. Voyda.

- They'll be a knockout in your café. - They shall never see my café.

I ordered Indians, and what do I get?

Wait, Mr. Voyda.

Huck, do the organ number, quick.

Come on, boys, give us the organ number. Get the gloves out.

- Oh, Mr. Voyda. - What?

Aren't you going to give these boys a chance?

No, why should I?

Sorry, Mr. Voyda, but I'm afraid you've got to listen.

Just submit quietly and we'll both keep out of jail.

Well, how did you like that, Mr. Voyda? You see, you almost made a mistake.

I made a mistake? You made a mistake.

You are not Indians!

The cable mentioned a short engagement.

Well, it was a nice trip over.

It'll be a nicer trip going back, stoking coals.

Come on, boys, the train for Paris.

A grand total of $13.78.

And a button.

Well, boys, at the rate we live, that'll last us about two months.

Mother told me there would be days like this.

Say, listen, they dance in Paris, don't they?

All we have to do is find out who pays the fiddler.

Does anyone know anyone in Paris?

That top sergeant brother of mine gave me some addresses.

Quiet.

Wait! I know somebody, a little girl who used to live next door to me.

Gee, I was crazy about her, too. She's a sensation in Paris,

she's a star of some show or something.

- She'll help us. - Well, what's her name?

What was her name?

Gee, I could find her like that if I could only remember her name.

Anybody else you know you can't remember?

Yeah, but I can't think who they are.

I know, it's Lizzie, Lizzie... Elizabeth Gatz.

That's it. Elizabeth Gatz.

What a beautiful name.

Whether you find your Lizzie or not, I've got an aunt in Paris. Aunt Minnie.

Can Aunt Minnie use a band?

Probably not. She's a dressmaker.

Well, I've knitted and tatted all my life, but I've never sewed.

- She's very rich and famous. She might... - Why didn't you say so before?

She's Roberta.

Roberta?

- This Roberta? - Yeah.

They tell me in Paris if you don't buy your gowns from Roberta,

you're not dressed at all.

I see, nude if you don't, and nude if you do.

Grab my bag, will you?

Listen, ask your aunt Minnie if she knows where we can find Lizzie Gatz, will you?

- Okay. I won't be long. - All right.

You fellows pick yourselves some comfortable easy chairs.

Hey!

Hey!

What am I supposed to do here besides pray? Or can't you speak English?

Well, the old trap won't go.

Oh, what's the use? Just a dumb foreigner.

Oh, here, here, here.

You mustn't do that. You might be killed.

Oh, you speak English.

Ladislaw.

Oh, don't go away. I want to thank you.

Gee, you saved my life. I'm ever so much obliged to you.

Oh, it's nothing at all.

Oh, I mean you're welcome, of course.

Do you know where I can find Madam Roberta?

Yes. Come with me.

I didn't really mean that about a dumb foreigner.

I forgive you.

Gee, that's swell.

You speak English beautifully.

Long ago I went to school in England.

Did you like it?

Oh, yes, I like the English. And the Americans, too.

Gee, that's swell.

- I'm an American. - Gee, that's...

I mean, I thought so.

Will you sit here, please?

Thank you.

But Minnie, you've made a mistake in the year. You don't look a day over...

- Stephanie! - How do you do, Lord Henry?

My dear.

I saw your cousin, Prince Peter, last week in Rome.

He asked after you most solicitously.

I hope you told him I had gone to work and he should do the same.

When all you titled aristocrats get jobs,

maybe Europe can settle down to a few years' peace.

What is it, Stephanie?

There's a young gentleman outside from America, waiting to see you.

Young gentleman from America?

John.

John!

Bring him in, Stephanie. Bring him in!

No, wait. Don't let him come until I've powdered my nose.

Give me that compact, Henry. Quick, quick, the compact!

How does he look?

He must look all right.

- Send him in, Stephanie. - Yes, madame.

- This "John from America", who is he? - My nephew.

I met him when I was there a few years ago and took a great fancy to him.

He's quite famous in his way.

"All-American halfback" or "three quarters back" or something.

- Really? - Yes, you know, it's queer,

but when you happen to like your relatives,

you like them better than other people.

- And if you hate them? - Don't be obvious, Henry.

He was the only one of the whole tribe

who was polite to me during my entire visit.

I like him, Henry.

He's like a big, affectionate, blundering Newfoundland dog.

I'd like to see him grow up.

- How big is he now? - Oh, about 6'2".

John, my dear, I'm so glad to see you.

It's swell to see you, Aunt Minnie.

- Here he is, Henry, here is my... - Newfoundland dog?

I was telling him about you, John.

This is Lord Henry Delves, a really grand person.

And this is Stephanie, my able assistant whom I couldn't do without.

Well, young man, I think your aunt should be very much complimented.

When I was in Paris at your age,

I didn't spend my time visiting my aunts.

Maybe you didn't have any aunts like Aunt Minnie.

Very prettily said, John.

There aren't any like your aunt Minnie.

Well, goodbye, young man, I'm off to catch a train,

but in a fortnight I'll be back.

And then, as I understand is the custom in your country,

we'll go places and do something.

Goodbye, Minnie, miss me just a little, won't you?

A very great deal, my dear.

Nice old duck, isn't he?

Oh, he isn't so terribly old.

Oh, I didn't mean in years, Aunt Minnie. I meant I like him.

Do you?

Then you're a good judge of men.

Now, tell me about this young lady you wrote me about. What was her name?

Sophie. She's given me the air.

What?

We had a row.

Oh, I thought she'd given you an heir.

She must be very stupid.

Oh, no, she's brilliant, really.

She speaks German and French and everything.

Here's her picture.

It isn't very good of her, though.

She has her points.

I take it you're smarting over this air she has given you.

Well, I'm still in love with her.

But she says I'm just a hick.

- A what? - A farmer.

I've got hay in my hair.

I can't talk on any subject,

- I can't dance, I can't even dress myself. - Ridiculous.

And I don't know anything about women's clothes,

and when I have to order dinner it's always meat, potatoes and pie.

Oh, she says that, does she? Well, we'll show her she's wrong.

Gosh, John's been in there a long while.

Oh, why didn't we go to a hotel first?

Man, I'm hungry.

Come on, Mac, give him the call.

That's my gang.

- I came over with a band. - A band of what?

An orchestra. They're the Wabash Indianians,

hired for a job in Paris and fired through a misunderstanding.

Now they're looking for an engagement. They're a swell bunch.

They do that rather prettily.

Madame, Scharwenka wants to see you.

She doesn't like her tissue. She doesn't like the model,

she doesn't like the fit, and she doesn't like the price.

Oh, you mean she doesn't like it.

Yes, madame, what will you do about it?

Do about it? Let her go.

She'll come back.

She's the rage here right now, and she's got the best figure in Europe,

but she has to have it dressed, at least partly.